As Red as Berries
by lunarpizzas
Summary: Madge Undersee, the daughter of District 12's very own mayor, is the last person anyone would expect to be reaped for The Hunger Games. When her name is called, along with brooding Seam boy Gale Hawthorne's, things are not going to go as the Capitol plans.
1. Chapter 1

When I wake up in the morning, I find the nerves haven't gone away. I don't know why I would expect any different; every year on this day is a cause for me to shrink underneath my heavy blanket cover and pretend I don't exist.

I know I shouldn't be scared. My name's in the glass bowl five times this Reaping, and so I won't be called. On any other day I like to think I would be happy to take the place of some other poor soul dragged up to her death, but truly, isn't everyone afraid?

I stare at a point in the distance, waking up, and looking over the ruffly white _thing _hooked to my door. It's been there since last night, and I can't stop staring. It's pretty, and it's a shame that it has to represent such a gruesome occasion as the Reaping. Dutifully, I slide out of bed and over to it, running my fingers over the softness. Not aiming to waste any time, I undress and slide it on, avoiding the mirrors. _It'll make you nervous_.

Pale shoes for the pale dress, and a brush through my angry, flaxen hair. I'm not out the door two seconds before I see my mother, a smile on her face more anxious than my entire body, there with a thick pink ribbon. I stop for her.

She holds out the ribbon, breathing, "Madge, I was just about to barge in. I thought this would look pretty on you,"

"Thank you, Mom," I muster a convincing smile and turn so she can work the bow into my hair. She promises that Dad will be downstairs in just a moment, and I should wait there for him, so I clop down the stairs in shoes a size too big and dawdle in the kitchen.

_Knock, knock, knock. _I'm startled at first by the sound at the back door, but it doesn't take me long to recognize the culprit as Katniss before I even open the door. As I head to open it, I swipe a small stack of coins from the counter; she's supposed to bring by strawberries today.

When I open the door I see not only Katniss and her pail of strawberries, but also Gale. Gale, a dark and Seam-hardened hunter, is Katniss' friend as well as I. He doesn't pretend to like me. His features tighten when he looks my way, and like a branch under pressure, I sometimes expect him to snap. Today, he is still stone cold. He scans me over while I try to keep my gaze on Katniss. His eyes grey like a storm when he says, "Pretty dress."

Now _that _I wasn't expecting. My eyes dart over to him quickly, narrowing. I purse my lips and offer a smile, uttering simply, "If I end up going to the Capitol, I want to look nice, don't I?"

I can only hope he catches my sarcasm.

He looks down at my chest as his expression winds up further. It takes me a moment to realize that on my dress is pinned the Mockingjay, an heirloom from my mother and real gold. It doesn't help the situation.

"You won't be going to the Capitol," I can see his contained anger, and my face flushes. "What can you have? Five entries? I had six when I was just twelve years old."

"That's not her fault," insists Katniss.

"No, it's no one's fault. Just the way it is," spits Gale, fizzling. He looks exasperated, and he isn't looking at me anymore. I wish I could bring myself to apologize, but it wouldn't do any good. I wish Katniss good luck and we make our exchange, and I feel more rotten than I did upon waking.

If I could, I would offer Katniss and Gale my family's wealth. They have larger families and could use it more than I. There's nothing that I can do, really. As the time draws nearer I find myself thinking less of me and more of those who actually do have a chance of being drawn into our nation's death match. I pluck a strawberry from the pail and force it down my throat in a series of swallows.

As Mayor Undersee's daughter, it is partly my responsibility to be there early with the family before the crowds file in, like sheep to the slaughter, for the Reaping. I pluck lint off my father's pretty suit and even out the parts of his greying hair that are still on his head. We make our way out, and a few unready citizens watch us with envious contempt on our way. I do not blame them; I'd be jealous too.

My mother doesn't go. She doesn't go anywhere. Ever since her twin sister fell victim to the Games, she's been bedridden with painful headaches that are, in her words, like lightning. She's one of the few people exempt from attending. I've heard many horror stories of those who failed to show.

I focus on keeping my shoes on my feet and staring forward as we make our slow way to the Square. I feel my father's hand on my back a few times, and I am not sure if he is ushering or comforting.

"Hey, Madge," I hear him whisper to me, sensing my nerves. "Five entries. You are going to be just fine. One, two, three, four, five."

_One, two, three, four, five. _That simple, huh?

It's all a blur from then on, my father is pecked at by my me again before we have to separate, I watch the escort totter helplessly among working men who set up the grand display. My father, no, Mayor Undersee mutters the Reaping Speech to himself as he paces around the developing stage. He knows it by memory at this point. I watch from my spot, alone in the roped off sixteens.

Suddenly, I am surrounded. Nervous souls suffocate each other, standing alert for the most daunting day of the year. My mind recites the speech as Mayor Undersee does; he had me help him practice when I was small. I wish I could forget the brainwashing droll. By the time it's over, I'm almost glad to see Haymitch Abernathy step up drunk on the stage. He flails himself into the chair with a holler, offering some amusement before the mayor draws attention to Effie Trinket.

Effie Trinket, District 12's escort, is from the Capitol. This basically means that she looks as if a flower threw her up at all times. I can tell that past the clownish makeup, Effie is a very beautiful and kind woman, but she covers that well as she prances up to the microphone. She welcomes us cheerily, as if this event is a celebration, with a chipper, "Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be _ever _in your favor!"

I can barely understand her past the accent, but I remember how this goes. My eyes scan the crowd lazily, searching for Katniss. I catch her at some point ahead of me, and I keep my eyes on her as Effie chirps, "Ladies first!"

I trace her braid with my eyes, praying it's not her. She has so much more to lose, so much more. _Please, please please._

That is when Effie Trinket calls Madge Undersee to the stage.


	2. Chapter 2

I feel like an old tree. One that has just fallen, heavy into the earth without any intention of standing. I look up at the mayor-no, he's dad again, for help. He looks as pale and awestruck as I feel. My eyes don't leave him as I try to shuffle to the stage. I feel a million eyes on me, like bugs crawling. I have to stay strong.

_One, two, three, four, five._ I breathe, struggling to keep these clunky oxfords on my feet. Maybe if I focus on them, I'll calm down.

Peacekeepers stare me down as I walk, like they're expecting me to bolt. I sink myself in, in a series of breath and glare forward, ignoring the tears at the corners of my eyes and hard beating in my chest. I must be brave. I cannot loo at my father's face again.

Effie Trinket outstretches a paste-white, claw-nailed hand to me. I take it and she leads me to my place, where I face all of District 12. Some are still solemn, some cannot hide their shock. I find Katniss. Her expression is still terse, but she's staring right at me and some part of her looks on the verge of tears. She nods at me, subtly, and I nod back. I don't know what it means but it comforts me.

"Alright!" Effie tweets, hand gestures swaying her over to the second glass ball on the stage. "This is going just swimmingly, isn't it? Time for the boys!"

She wastes no time reaching in and extracting a name. "Gale Hawthorne,"

My eyes have not left Katniss, who doesn't hide her devastation this time. Tears roll down her cheeks as he mounts the stage, emotionless. Not a single bit of him looks afraid. He's staring at her too, looking helpless and probably wishing he could tell her it will be alright.

He can't make that promise.

My father steps forward, shaking, to read the Treaty of Treason like he must every year. I have that one memorized, too, and I stare at my feet as I murmur along. As he finishes up, it seems that Haymitch has had enough and he steps forward, throwing his arms around Gale and I and yelling over any other noise. He's grinning, but I can't look at him for long because inhaling his scent makes me nauseous.

"C'mon, shake!" slurs Haymitch enthusiastically, stumbling backward.

I turn to Gale and we take each other's hands. His shake is sincere, not like I expected, but he looks like a wolf staring down his prey. The anthem of Panem slides into the air thickly. It isn't over soon enough before a few excessively rough Peacekeepers shove our way into Justice Building. The silence I face in my lone room here is surprisingly painful. I almost miss the Reaping stage.

It doesn't take long for the door to burst open. I feel my dad's arms around me before I register that it's him. His suit is disheveled now, as is his patchy hair. I cling to him tightly; I know he'll disappear soon. With my face pressed into his shoulder, I inhale to remember his scent. He pulls back, petting my hair frantically. His face looks grey and crooked as he tells me, "Please try. For me. For your _mother_."

I think back to when I dug up that tape. I vividly remember watching the aunt I never knew get picked apart by long-beaked, bubblegum birds. The image puts a stone in my throat that I try to swallow. I nod at my dad, instead, fixing his hair. I hope he knows that no amount of trying will make me come out victorious.

"It'll be okay," I lie soothingly. I run my hands down my dad's sleeves, trying to calm him. He looks frantic. How will he tell mom I was reaped?

He sighs a very defeated sigh, pulling me to him again. He doesn't want to let go, I know, but there is definitely a more pressing matter at hand.

An unsympathetic Peacekeeper opens the door lazily. "Time."

Neither of us want to let go, but when the soldier threatens brute force, we break away. Just before my father's face is closed behind the wood, I request that he makes sure the Hawthornes stay alive.

A small rush of people enter and leave after that, telling me how kind I am and that they will miss me. They wish me the best, acting like I'm strong enough to outlast twenty-three. It feels like I'm already dead and they're speaking to my grave. I smile through them, though, thanking them and knowing that they truly mean well. I add their well wishes to a list of reasons to be strong, even though I don't know the names of half of them. Amidst the visitors, there is Katniss.

I'm surprised to see her at first. She rushes to me, her expression crumbling like my dad's was. I can tell her mind is on Gale.

"Katniss, he has a shot at winning," I say, keeping my eyes trained on hers. "It's okay; your time is better spent on him."

I try to smile, but I'm not sure if it came across that way. Another surprise: she hugs me.

She's not going to lie to me, and I'm glad. I doubt she even wants me to come out victorious over Gale. But still, she is afraid for me, and I am her second choice, so I can believe her sincerity when she gives me her parting message: "Fight like hell,"

Before she leaves, I give her a kiss on the cheek.


End file.
